The Caged Bird
by ZombieChopstick
Summary: Parker McKinley is an American ex-CIA criminal analyst sent for by Mycroft Holmes. He's in need of her help though he refuses to tell her exactly why. [Sherlock/OC]
1. The Caged Bird

_Month 1_

As I stepped out of the private plane I had spent the better half of a day in, I was forced to pull my knee length navy blue coat tightly around me. The cold air was penetrating, awaiting a drop in temperature as the sun slowly rose to the east of me. I silently cursed myself for wearing a dress knowing fully well that the England weather was not forgiving. At least I had my brown knee-high boots to keep my legs somewhat warm. The strap from my carry on bag was beginning to dig into my shoulder from all of the useless things I had stuffed it full with. Band-aids, sewing needles and thread, a phone charger, a pair of short black socks, and for some reason a navy blue rounded top hat to match my coat, along with an assortment of other random items. Considering my former career as a criminal analyst for the CIA, I still had no idea who I was or why I felt the need to carry around trivial such things. I took my first steps in this new country carefully, scanning the small airport for any signs of hostility knowing well that there was nothing to worry about. Unfortunately that was the curse of the job. It kept you alert and ready at all times, a habit I was trying to break now that I was no longer in eminent danger at all hours of the day.

While taking in every detail of the dimly lit buildings surrounding me I noted a man dressed in a suit and drivers hat waiting a few yards to the right of me. He was positioned next to a sleek all black BMW, which he then proceeded to open the passenger door of and motioned for me to get in. I made my way to him, relieved as he pulled my bag from my shoulder. My hand instantly reached up to massage my muscles as he spoke to me. "Miss McKinley?" He questioned, earning a nod from me. His monotone accent took me by surprise for a moment before I remembered where I was. The jet lag was taking it's toll. I looked him over, taking in as much as I could about him. He was darker skinned, a slouching posture, neatly trimmed hair, well kept nails, and a bulb like nose. He looked disinterested in being here and slightly tired considering the time. "It's a pleasure to meet you. My name is Mason. I'll be your escort for the day." His last sentence caused me to chuckle. "I really hope escort doesn't mean the same thing in London as it does in America." I joked, earning a half smile from him. My eyes rolled in remote annoyance as I patted him on the back, sliding in to the back seat soon after.

He closed the door behind me and quickly got in to the drivers seat, setting my bag in the passengers seat and starting the car up. I felt a pang of alert as I remembered all of my luggage. "What about all of my things?" I questioned. "Don't worry, Miss McKinley. Mr. Holmes has instructed his men to take your things to your new flat." I stared at him in the rear view mirror for a second before sinking back into the comfortable beige leather seat. The interior of the car was basically like new. The seats looked as if nobody had ever sat in them before, the wooden dashboard looked untouched and shiny. It even had the new car smell lingering in the air. As we begun our journey to, well, wherever it was he was taking me, I couldn't help but think about why I was here. My long and arduous career with the military and CIA led me to this point. I was one of the longest standing in my field of work after the army and I was reaching a point where mistakes were being made on my behalf. I voluntarily left the agency, deciding to take the less emotional and destructive route by becoming a small time detective. It put my skills to good use and never hurt anybody. It did get me alot of attention from national agencies, however. Something I planned on keeping away from until I got a call from a rather desperate Mr. Holmes. He had told me that he had reviewed my file many times in my career with the CIA. He also said that if anybody could help him with his problem, I was the person. I had never been much for money and intended on turning his offer down but when he kept going up in his price I really couldn't refuse. The things people will pay for and above average intelligence and a keen attention to microexpressions that people give off. I chuckled quietly to myself, receiving a strange look from Mason.

The car ride began to feel as if it would never end. Silence filled the space between Mason and I. He looked just about as bored as I was. When we reached the inner city he let me know that we would arrive at our destination soon. "Do you know much about your employer, Mason?" I asked him as he glanced at me in the rear view mirror. His head shook a little before he answered. "I'm just a driver, ma'am." I nodded, my olive green eyes scanning the scenery around us. Tall business buildings surrounded the car, intimidating me with their height. I'd always been afraid of heights. "We're here, ma'am." He informed me as we pulled up to a neatly paved stone driveway. I sat up straight and composed myself, pulling my slim phone out of my pocket to check the time. 6:12 a.m. The sun was fully visible as we pulled up to a large grey stone mansion, the spaces between the stone pavement causing the car to slightly bounce. The mansion towered over us, presenting a very majestic yet grim appearance.

There were vines climbing up the walls, wrapping around drain pipes and sneaking up on the countless windows around the mansion. The only inviting aspect was the flowerbeds lining the stairway to the front door. There was a prismatic assortment of roses, orchids, hydrangeas, and tulips, circling up towards dark wooden double doors, making me feel a little less threatened by the somber impression this place gave me. Mason parked us near the staircase, exiting the vehicle quickly to open my door for me. He held out a helping hand, quickly retracting it when I ignored him and climbed out of the backseat. He closed the door behind me and motioned for me to follow him. I did so after taking a moment to stretch, enjoying the fresh air and sunlight warming my lightly tanned skin. I quickly caught up to Mason as he ascended the short staircase, all the while I grabbing a hair tie from my wrist and pulling my chestnut brown hair into a messy bun, my bangs falling gently into my face.

As we reached the door it opened to reveal a well-groomed man sparsely taller than me, dressed in a tidy grey suit with a black silk tie. His hairline was barely thinning, the rest of his head covered with light brown hair that was smoothed back properly. His lips were pursed tightly as he looked down his nose at me, examining me the same as I was with him. After a moment he put on an artificial smile, finally acknowledging that I was the person he was expecting. "Miss McKinley! It's so nice to meet you." His British accent was polite and professional but had a touch of power behind it. He reached out to shake my hand. "Please call me Parker, Mr. Holmes." I requested, stretching my hand out to grip his tightly, shaking it with a small amount of force before letting go. He smiled and nodded, moving back to let me in to the house. I complied, stepping in and glancing all around at the dark ambiance. The floor was a darker wood just like the door, the furniture was faded and Victorian looking, and the collections of art that he had were difficult to understand at first glance. "Thank you, Mason. Please await further instructions." Mr. Holmes' voice was faint in the background as I heard the door shut behind me.

I made my way further into the foyer, scanning every inch of the house for exits, weapons, or possible signs of conflict. The one thing that caught my eye was a silhouette at the top of a large staircase in foyer. It looked as if someone were hiding right around the corner of the staircase. "May I take your coat?" I hesitated before turning to see Mr. Holmes with his arm held out to take my coat. I glanced back up at the stairs, soon pulling my coat off of my hourglass frame to reveal my black floral print dress, a small black belt wrapped around my waist for accessory. He took my coat and quickly ushered me in to a nearby room filled with wooden furniture and Victorian art. A long table sat before a bay window on the far side of the room, out-looking what I assumed to be the backyard. Two off white chairs sat closer to us, a fireplace in front of them and a dark wooden table sitting between them with a silver tray set on top containing a tea kettle, two tea cups, a cup full of milk, and a plate holding a few biscuits. "Please take a seat." He said while hanging my coat on a coat rack placed near the door.

I sat in the chair closest to me, folding my hands neatly in my lap. He took at seat in the opposite chair and began pouring tea into the tea cups. After adding some milk he handed me a cup which I graciously accepted. I sipped it quietly, waiting to hear anything he needed to tell me. He sat in silence, holding his cup at chest height as he stared at me, his lips slightly pursed like when I first saw him. I tried to read his face but, to be honest, he was a hard man to read. He either looked angry or like he was trying to keep up a professional appearance. It made me uncomfortable. After a moment he finally spoke. "I take you know few details about why you are here." It sounded like a question but it was more so him insuring that I didn't know more than they wanted me to. I nodded in reply, taking another sip of my tea. "Good. As a former soldier I expect you not to ask questions, however, as a highly regarded criminal analyst I expect you to have many." He paused for a second, testing my obedience. I gave him a reassuring smile and kept my mouth shut. While I was very curious about being shoved on a plane with all of my personal belongings, I first and foremost had the intelligence to figure it out myself and not ask questions.

He set his cup down on the tray and stood up, pulling a medium sized dark brown envelope from his suit jacket pocket. "Everything you need is in there." He said while handing me the envelope. I clasped it in my hand and set my cup down before opening it. Inside contained a set of apartment keys, a car key, a black iPhone, and a debit card. I glanced up at him, dumping the contents in to my lap to get a closer look at them. The car keys had a BMW logo on it as well as a miniature British flag hanging from the key chain. The only way I knew the other set of keys were apartment keys is because of the apartment number printed on them, just as the debit card had my name printed on it. There wasn't much to the phone aside from the case that had been chosen for it. It was bright yellow, on the back only, with a smiley face carved in to the top right-hand corner. Not printed on to it, or even just a simple sticker. It had been carved in to it. It wasn't noticeable unless you looked at it closely. My fingers grazed over it, feeling the ridges and imperfections in the design.

I took a mental note of it before turning my attention to the closed door. A small creak had caught my attention. "The vehicle you arrived in is now yours to do what you see fit as well as the debit card. Your payment will be put in to your account every two weeks, the payment for today has already been transferred, and the other set of keys are for a flat that I've already set you up in." Mr. Holmes explained as he strode over to the door, blocking my sight of it while retrieving my coat. "The phone is for instructions. An associate of mine will be keeping in touch with you. Mason will take you to your flat and help you get situated. All of your belongings should be there by the time you are." He made his way back to me and held my coat up, motioning for me to stand. I got up and turned around, sliding my arms in to my coat, buttoning it up when I was comfortable. I faced him, wanting very much so to ask him what I was even doing here. All I knew was that I had a large amount of money to spend, a new car, and a new apartment. I kept my mouth closed, however. I would find my answers soon enough. He held his hand out, motioning for me to leave the room. He followed close behind, ushering me to the door. Before opening it I turned heel and stared at him. "I know I'm not suppose to ask questions, sir, but I do need to have an idea as to what I'm here to do. A hint? A clue?" I made sure to assert my concern in my tone, slinking back slightly when he looked me up and down with a hard expression. "Very well, Miss McKinley." I let him continue without correcting him on my name again. "A dear friend of mine will be going through some hardship in the next few months. I need you to help adjust him to it so as to not cause too much stress on him and any other parties involved. I would appreciate, however, if you would not inform him of our dealings together." His was as cryptic as ever but it gave me enough to go off of. I just had one last question. He could tell by my uneasiness, causing him to sigh loudly and stare at me in a displeased manner. "Is there anything else, Mrs. McKinley?" He was impatient, like he was in a hurry for me to leave. "Your friends name, sir?"  
"John Hamish Watson."


	2. They Stare At Me While I Stare At You

_Month 1. Part 2_

The black door I approached looked worn and chipped. Gold letters were shining at the top of it right above a golden door knocker. _221B._ I grabbed the key from my pocket and scanned it, checking the number on it. 221C. I raised my left hand and knocked lightly. As I waited for someone to answer I took in the sights. Right next door was a small cafe. Speedy's Sandwich Bar & Cafe was printed in big white letters. I peeked inside a window and examined the small shop. There wasn't much inside except for a few tables for guests and an area for the employees to arrange meals. I pulled my attention from the shop when I heard the door to 221B open. Standing there was an older woman. She had short sandy blond hair and peach colored cheeks. Her outfit was comprised of a brightly colored scarf, an ankle length light brown skirt, and a loose white dress shirt. She gave off a very warming and cheery presence. "Hello there dear! Oh, you must be Parker. I've been waiting for you all morning. You must be exhausted!" I barely got a word in as she yanked me inside.

As sweet as this woman was, it made me tense up. Affection wasn't an emotion I was use to receiving, even with my abundance of feelings towards things. Those were mostly kept to myself, however. Just because I had been taught to turn my emotions off doesn't mean I enjoyed doing so. "I'm Mrs. Hudson, dear. I'm your landlady. I'll be living in the flat right next to you. Oh, this will be so nice!" No ounce of happiness was wasted in her words. She seemed genuinely excited to have me there. She ushered me to my new home, pulling the key out of my hand while still going on about how it would be so nice to have another woman around to chat with. I kept my ears trained on her while glancing around the rest of the building.

It had a rustic look to it, dust gathering in the corners but still having the decency to keep out of the line of sight. A staircase took its place right above my apartment door, winding up to what I assumed was 221B. "I've got two other tenants living here. A man and a woman. We'll all have to gather together tonight to get more acquainted with you." I turned my attention back to her at the mention of getting to know my neighbors.

She had opened my door and stood there patiently, waiting for me to go in first. I took a step in, instantly smelling remnants of fresh paint and sawdust. The walls were painted a pastel blue with gold trim. There was a fireplace at the opposite side of the room with a white mantle and dark stone built around the floor of it to catch any ash or debris. It was empty aside from the few boxes I had with all of my belongings packed away in them. "They made quite a ruckus remodeling this place. I'm surprised they managed to clean it up so fast for you. I wasn't able to get anyone to rent it before." She explained while closing the door behind her and then making her way to the kitchen. I unbuttoned my coat and slid it off, placing it on one of the boxes. A pang of anxiety suddenly settled in my chest. I had never lived outside of America. I didn't know the customs here or even my way around the block. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath to relax myself, jumping when an unknown text tone played on my phone. My eyebrows furrowed as I opened my eyes and reached in to my coat pocket. In the background I could hear Mrs. Hudson moving around in the kitchen, most likely straightening up. She seemed like the type to clean any mess in front of her.

I checked my phone, confused to see that I hadn't gotten anything. Another text tone played, causing me to eye my coat. "Ah...that's right." I immediately remembered that Mr. Holmes had given me a phone for his associate to contact me on. I reached back in to my pocket, pulling the iPhone out. The screen was lit up, showing a notification for two text messages. My thumb slid across the screen to unlock it, the text messages instantly popping up.

_Get rid of her quickly._

My head tilted in confusion as I glanced over at Mrs. Hudson in the kitchen. She was fixing some tea for us, humming lightly to herself. It made me nervous that this person knew that Mrs. Hudson was with me. My eyes searched the immediate areas for any signs of a hidden camera. When I found nothing I turned my attention back to my phone and read the second text.

_Now._

"We'll have to take you shopping in a short while for some food, dear. We can't have you starving." She turned to stare at me, her cheery expression dropping when she saw that I was rooted in the place she had last seen me. "Is everything alright?" She asked, receiving a nod from me. Another text tone.

_Don't you listen?_

I locked the phone and tossed it on to another nearby box. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Hudson. I'm just a little dazed from the trip. Would you mind if I just freshened up a bit?" I asked while opening the door for her. She smiled and nodded, clasping her hands together. "Of course, dear. I understand." She made her way to the door, stopping right as she crossed the threshold. She pointed her index finger at me, a sly smile on her lips. "Don't think you'll weasel your way out of our little gathering tonight." And with that she was gone. I chuckled a little and shut the door, rolling my eyes as I heard the text tone again. I turned and grabbed the phone, unlocking it.

_Bedroom. _

"You could ask a little nicer, you know!" I exclaimed, stopping when I realized I was talking rather loudly to a phone. This person was starting to infuriate me. I made my way to the bathroom, all the while admiring my new home. I stuck my head inside a small room next to my bedroom that I decided within a second I would make in to an office. It was painted white with a wooden floor, black curtains covering a large window on the other side of the room. My bedroom door was closed, putting me on alert for someone who may be waiting for me on the other side. I took precaution, unbuckling the belt around my waist and wrapping it once around my right hand to use as a weapon. I turned the door knob and pushed the door open, dropping my defense when I saw that it was empty except for my mattress and mattress frame leaning up against a wall. I walked in, noting the bathroom and closet doors were wide open. No threat.

My head snapped in the direction of the closet, hearing a small 'ping!' come from it. I walked over to it, reaching up on to a small shelf inside of it and grabbing a small laptop sitting upon it. The laptop was halfway open, the screen illuminating the keypad. I pushed the screen up, surprised to see a web cam chat set up. A small green light suddenly turned on at the top of my screen, a video feed of myself popping up on the screen. My eyebrows furrowed again once I saw how tired and disheveled I looked. My hand reached up to fix pieces of my hair that were sticking up, stopping when a chat window popped up along with a picture of a question mark for their web cam feed. The name for the person gave me a small amount of information on them.

_Doyle: Stop fidgeting with your hair. We're not here to look pretty. We're here to do a job._

My hand dropped to my side as I frowned. I apologized and brought the laptop out with me to the front room, taking a seat on the soft grey carpet. I pulled my hair out of its bun and slid my boots off to get comfortable, waiting for the next reply. Finally a 'ping!'.

_Doyle: I'm sending you all of the information on John H. Watson. Read over it carefully and study him._

Out of the corner of my eye I noticed the email icon had a red '1' on the right hand corner of it. I ran my fingers over the touch pad and tapped on the email icon. An email reading 'JHW' appeared. I clicked on it, revealing a multitude of links to information about him including a resume, birth certificate, family photos, and news articles about his business with Sherlock Holmes. I scanned over a photo of John and Sherlock, surprised to see the pair together. One being extraordinarily taller than the other and having a darker appearance to him. Not to mention handsome. They both looked professional, proper posture telling me that they took their business seriously. John had a more wholesome look to him but the small lines on his face told me a different story. It told me that he had been through hardship but came out of it all on top, most likely because of his relationship with Mr. Holmes. Sherlock, however was much harder to read. A lot like his brother. He looked like he kept to himself. Like he had been shunned for so long for being the way he was that he had accepted it long ago. Perhaps this was why him and John remained colleagues. Funny what kind of reading you could get off of one photo. To be honest though, I instantly took more of an interest in Sherlock Holmes than John Watson.

I shook those thoughts out of my head. It felt wrong to be attracted to someone just because you enjoyed the appearance of said person over the other. To me, at least. It was only human nature, of course. Besides, after I had done all of my research on John I would look up Sherlock and find out anything I could. I was even more compelled to do so when I clicked on a link that lead me to an article with the headline 'SUICIDE OF FAKE GENIUS'. I began reading the page when another chat line popped up.

_Doyle: Someone of your intelligence ignores distractions, Miss McKinley. Do not disappoint._


End file.
